


Feared Interest

by SilkySleep



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft - Fandom, mcyt
Genre: DreamSMP - Freeform, I'll tag as I go idk what I'm doing, M/M, Technoblade is a piglin hybrid, i'm definitely wanting angst lets gooo future me, if you want angst that is, it starts out really stupid it'll take a while for there to be angst maybe, quackity is a shapeshifter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkySleep/pseuds/SilkySleep
Summary: He didn't expect things to go this way.He couldn't keep up his usual carefree mask to hide the fear sketched out on his face, constantly having to fight his fight or flight instincts to chain him somewhere safe.The same Technoblade that gave others nightmares, that made them feel panic, the same one who mercilessly slaughtered those that bothered him, he was the only one who had bothered to keep him alive amidst the chaos.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity/Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 59
Kudos: 369





	1. His Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Quackity has some  
> ~~Issues
> 
> ALSO I'M SORRY I'LL PROBS EDIT AGAIN AND AGAIN A CHAPTER I'M NOT A GOOD WRITER LOL

Quackity had plenty of things to fear, so many really, like an insane amount of thingies, giant spiders, hissing of creepers, falling into ravines and, well, the angry villagers that were actively chasing him. It wasn't anything new but my god he was desperate for a break. The twigs snapping behind him only furthering his drive to get away, adrenaline spiking anytime he felt a noise was too close for comfort. With his lungs burning, his inhaling had become close to a chore. He shakily drew in a sharp breath, steadying himself after tripping over a birch trunk, begging himself to keep his feet from dragging.

It's not like Quackity was  _ completely  _ stupid, he just had really, _ REALLY,  _ poor decision making skills and bad impulse control.

His prime example being: a couple of minutes ago when he had shape-shifted some _ dope ass _ wings in front of the chief's kid to make ‘em stop crying. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, and neither was loudly stealing bread from the same kid's home. OKAY, _ ALRIGHT,  _ that, paired with throwing a tantrum whilst insulting the village chief when he showed up was probably stupid.  probably. The feeble punches he threw afterwards was just the cherry on top for Quackity, he didn't even realize the implications of his sudden violence until he was being yelled at.

It was automatic, like the push of a button, all it took was the chief eyeing him and rumouring up “his” kind. Or maybe it was just him. Like, seriously, just him. The man looked like he hadn’t showered in days for fucks sake. His constant shouts of surprise when he was bumped into hadn’t gone unnoticed and him constantly trying to sell drugs to 13 year olds was a trend that had gotten him in trouble more than once. Generally, he was wanted, by several villages, enough to make him feel like a celebrity. The stinging of a tree branch cutting the side of his cheek brought him back from his haze and to his current surroundings, birch forest winding all around him and littering the floor with logs.

The steady beat of his aching legs was what kept him going, trees steadily becoming a blur and noise gradually getting muffled, he just kept going.

Into a fuckin’ dead end.

Y'know, the kind that just _sorta made you think you were fine_ 'til a **_mountain_** decided it'd be _convenient_ to become the world's _biggest asshole_ and stop you? That kind?

Yeah, that kind, here, in front of him, in all it's stupid glory and looming shadows. It was a bit more inconvenient that the reason he even knew it was there was because his knee collided directly with the rock. Drawing in a sharp breath, he refused to let himself screech out his frustrations, he let an exasperated sigh leave his mouth, shaking his head to distract him from the jolting pain.

**FUCK**

His inner monologue was crashing against his head, creating an irritated chaos in his panic, all he saw were vivid colors that shot more bouts of fear to him.

_ SHITSHITSHITSHITFUCKPLEASE _ **_P L E A S E_ **

Voices kept inching closer, Quackity’s eyes zero in on a skillfully wielded axe that brought forth unpleasant ideas on how it could cause immense pain. Shouts barked in his direction, another wave of panic washed over him as he desperately looked for a way to hide, a way to get out of the situation with as few injuries as possible.

Quackity wasn't a strategist by any means, but he felt like a goddamn genius the moment he took two steps left and tripped into a ravine. The LONGEST ravine he's ever fallen down into. If it weren't for the fact that the fall was minutes long, he definitely would've slammed into the jagged rocks and died right then and there. The wings he still had out gently fluttered, enough to give him the few precious seconds needed to take a deep breath and drive his mind to a blank, to something light, something sweet, something small. He felt his body changing, grateful for the hours he spent copying the life around him. He gave a few more flaps, trying to give himself a bit more time to fully switch into a bird, a sweet, small canary. He aimed for a puddle of water, gently adjusting his angle.

He was a little bigger than he intended but he was alive, awkwardly paddling onto the dry stone of the vast ravine. Feathers puffed out, he shook himself, smug with what he had accomplished.

Voices from above had gotten louder, looking up he saw a couple of figures peering down, talking a little too quiet for him to listen in. Feeling confident, despite his aching bones begging for him to just  _ stop moving _ , he gave a tiny jump and flew to the top, surveying the villagers and landing on the opposite side of the ravine, hoping that the way he shook his tail at them carried his elated spirit, sauntering back and forth in a circle in a show of mockery. He got closer to the edge, to them. Any other time he would've known to stay away but he was too excited in his win, he sauntered forward, head held high, he knew he must've looked symbolic, a king, a straight up hero to others like him.

That  _ was  _ until the biggest man looked up in surprise at the bird, face contorting from focused to sheer amusement, a laugh escaped him and he began roaring with laughter, hitting the floor and shaking the others to look up. At him, Quackity. At first he felt anxious at the thought of them figuring him out, but as the laughter continued, he hopped around in frustration. He strode back and forth indignantly, flapping his wings in a show of aggression, making sure that if a bird could give a stink eye, that he definitely gave the stinkiest of eyes. "THAT IS THE  _ UGLIEST _ LOOKING DUCK I HAVE EVER SEEN," the man wheezed, content with trying to steady his shaking shoulders, unable to keep in his laughter. Quackity felt his feathers ruffle.

_ "AY MAN, FUCK YOU," _ he quacked in response, a strangled and obviously unpracticed note honking out repeatedly at his ex-hunters, frustrated that he couldn't have torn into them with the rampant, angry curses he held back. Quackity shifted a little more in front of them, fleshing out an actual duck to feel a bit more normal. It wasn't his fault he only had a few seconds to react. Fuck them, he was cool, he didn't die, he did it so that was all that mattered. He slowly waddled away, feeling the heaviness from before weighing down on his tiny body, step after step he went further into the forest, too tired to try shifting back. Slow, small steps sounding through the quiet forest, drooping so close to the forest floor he could stop and sleep, but it was getting dark, and he was starting to feel the urge to hide and cower. He was just tired. Maybe that's why he didn't realize his luck when he stumbled into a quaint and lit house, hidden behind thick shrubs. He spotted a hole at the bottom side of the house, illuminated by the light on the inside, never stopping his slow pace in fear of freezing up. Slow tiny steps, he made it underneath the hole, peering around the busted wood and gave a little hop, scrambling slightly to steady himself, his knee throbbing in protest. A small honk escaped him, sad, tired, one look at a couch was all he needed to settle and fall into a deep slumber.

The poor boy didn't notice the amused figure sitting at a table reading, watching as the pathetic and small duck made itself comfortable on his couch so casually.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'VE EDITED THIS CHAPTED LIKE 5 TIMES ALREADY LOL


	2. Well, this is Inconvenient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I'd get ANY attention for this and honestly your kudos/comments (especially comments woah hello) make my day and it really motivates me to write a lil more. I didn't think writing would take so long wow, anyways thank you!! I really genuinely appreciate that anyone is reading this :']

* * *

When Duck Q wakes up, he doesn’t expect the feeling of hands holding him. Blinking, he notices his wings being pinned firmly to his sides. _“Lo que carajo está pasando”_ he mutters out with a honk, trying to push his wings out in retaliation to the unexpected hold. The grip only tightened, keeping him secure in place. 

Seemingly glowing yellow eyes peer at him curiously, a pink-haired man sitting where the duck once slept, quietly looking over the feathered body. Now, it could be because he’s a little _bitch_ , but Quackity knows a threat when he sees one, and this guy screamed hard-ass. Said hard-ass narrowed his brow, a look of confusion passing by his face as he ran his thumbs over the way-too-small duck. A few spots on the duck seemed a bit too soft, something the man seemed both perplexed and focused on, running his fingers again and again over the areas. He didn’t know much about animals, but he was sure that too soft spots could only mean bruising, or maybe it was just a bit fat, although the duck genuinely seemed to be on the thin side.

“How’d you even manage to get like this, your Ma kick you outta the nest?” his holder asked, voice rumbling low enough for Quackity to feel vibrations. The stranger thumbed under the wings, the fuzziness of a baby duck had yet to be completely shed. He clearly wasn’t a baby, however, he still held some of the awkwardness and soft features a duckling has that he simply wasn’t old enough to completely grow out of. 

Honestly fuck this guy, if he was gonna scan Quackity like he was gonna shit out gold he might as well do the same. It was obvious he was a piglin hybrid, small tusks adorning his jaw in an underbite, eyes gold and attentive. The looming figure had only been emphasized by the harsh shadows encasing Quackity, giving him two impressions: _Big Man Scary,_ and, _Small duck is experiencing little bitch syndrome and is genuinely a little scared_. 

Unimpressed, the stranger drawls on, “You are one pathetically small ducky. Not even worth the slaughter,” he stated with a stone-cold face, his voice slightly rising in amusement. A small tug at the corner of his mouth formed as he noticed the duck looking slightly ruffled, staring him straight in the eyes. Quackity’s blood boiled, he couldn’t help but stare back in a silent competition of a staring contest. He hoped with all his might that he had uneased the man in some form, however, a trickle of insecurity settled in his chest. He knew he was stupid, he knew that. He knew he messed up and that his impulsive bursts had bad consequences, however, the possibility of this guy actually wanting to kill him came to mind. It made his blood run cold for a slow second as he gave up his one-sided game and caught the glimpse of a sword handle, peeking up from the waist it was attached to. He was an idiot. He could feel the feathers around his neck rising slightly in his realizations. 

Those facts lined up together however, did not affect his ability to scream as he felt a thumb brush against his knee. “ _YOUUUUUU SON OF A BITCH, YOU_ **_MOTHERFUCKER,_ ** _I WAS HAVING AN_ **_EMO_ ** _MOMENT YOU INCREDULOUS SOY BOY HOLY SHIT COULD YOU BE ANY MORE_ **_INCONSIDERATE_ ** _I-”_ he squawked horrendously, a short jolt of pain running through his body as he registered the enemy’s hand shooting away from the sensitive spot. A startled look flashed by quickly, the man’s body flinching in the sudden outburst. 

“UHHhH uhH _SHH SHH_ HOLD ON LET ME JUST-” stuttered out the piglin, regaining his composure, now having to wrestle the duck to once again shut the hell up and awkwardly dangle in his grip, hands once again covering wings to ensure no further outbursts would drop him. The knee really was a bit fucked up though, the skin dark in contrast to the rest of his leg and an ugly bruise slowly crawling it’s way around. 

And then little Q heard him chuckle. 

It was short, but Quackity caught it. A smile sweetly adorning the tusked mouth, eyes fixated on Quackity’s leg. 

,,,

“ _huh-”_

His leg?

He legs. He got damt skinny legend legs. Ducks aren’t exactly built to know what the hell to do when they’re being held with their backs facing the floor, so his legs were just dangling. It didn’t really phase Quackity, however the piglin hybrid must have had a broken sense of humor. With a wider smile, he lifted the duck higher and swished him side to side, up and down, slow enough not to cause further discomfort for Quackity, but quick enough to see his legs swing around.

“ _Oh my god this guy is so weird,”_ Quackity thought, as he, a _duck_ , a duck who wandered into a stranger’s home no less, a _shapeshifting_ duck who proudly and ravenously ONLY ate raw meat and dug through garbage because he couldn’t be bothered to cook?? Yeah, that’s what the homie thought as he watched golden eyes take absolute and unbridled joy in the awkwardly dangling legs of the duck who made itself home.

Using that moment as an advantage, he once again honks loudly, faking the man out and struggling successfully out of the grasp and onto the couch, bracing himself for the small jump needed to get to the quaint wooden floor. 

Quackity feels better, definitely way more alert now, but his knee really does still hurt and he most definitely feels the urge to curl up in a hole and marinate in self-pity. Quackity has priorities though, goals, tasks to be done. He knows his first order of business. With that, he mindfully turns to look at his sadistic captor. Fluffing himself out, he hops in the most aggressive way he can at the piglin, twice to assert his dominance, circling in a tight circle once and making sure he pumps his wings for dramatic effect. He was showing the man his place now that he was loose and free, eyes challenging the man to try showing him otherwise. Quackity actually would have loved it if he could just turn back into a person and swing, but he was already testing his luck by being awake at the moment. There just wasn’t enough energy left in his system, his body ached and begged for him to sleep for hours on end, to eat anything at all that would soothe the loudness of his empty stomach. Turning back was definitely not an option right now, that was just too much shifting for his body to go through. Instead he settled for letting bitches know their place, and that job simply doesn’t wait for anybody to feel rested. Job noted, he continues to honk, hoping he exuded confidence and tyranny. The pink man seemed not to notice however, simply dropping his hands to his sides as the duck displayed,,,,whatever the fuck he was doing and walking just a few steps away to the pillowed chair from before, visibly relaxing with a hand on his cheek, watching the flashy duck as his elbow found a comfortable spot on his table. 

The watching only continues.

More so intently now.

Eyes meet.

A silence as thick as Quackity’s self-proclaimed ass settles between them.

Dumby thick is usually a good thing but today he rethinks that statement.

Quackity doesn’t know if he sucks at shifting properly or if he really does feel a cold bead of sweat settle on him. He won’t look away, not this time. The stare, it only made his mind willfully wander to the stares he had gotten in the past, he couldn’t tell the thoughts behind them but he really wished that he could think more about them because the air was getting filled with the faintest shuffling noises, the man now seemingly catching on and twiddling with the cuff of his sleeve, wanting so badly to look away but finding himself being trapped by the stare of the equally uncomfortable fowl.

Mans just stays in place, the weight on his leg only feeling heavier as he realizes that he’s not even sitting down, he has to stay standing. But the other guy sat down, and there’s the couch but they just got past that already. Was he just supposed to leave? Harass him further? There was no clear exit or excuse, nothing to do aside from stare, hoping that a bird dumber than him would crash against the window next to the man to break the building tension. 

Quackity may have his issues, a hidden talent seemingly being his ability to make things go so wrong, this feeling seems to be the only message that the stranger picks up on through this stalemate. He really, genuinely, gets extremely uncomfortable. So uncomfortable. Only one question blaring itself through the pink man's mind: how the FUCK did this puny animal get the ability to exude this potent of a feeling. The overflowing uncomfortableness of it all makes him all too aware, too aware of the way his clothes fit him, aware of the way his tusks jut out, aware of the too-loud noises his shirt made rubbing against the chair, aware of how sweaty he was starting to feel. The same home where he went for quiet, for comfort, for peace, the same home he used as a getaway, it was the same home a duck decided to hop into and make him actually start questioning his life. What did this all lead to? Had his actions in the past really set him up for such an encounter? Was this really all the results of nights spent fighting, days gone hungry, hours of training, did it really all come together in a cruel destiny to lead to this very moment? 

It seemed the duck held a stink eye, either that or it really just had that strong a personality. The man couldn’t tell, all he knew was the stifling air was becoming too much for him to endure. 

…….

 _…_ **…….**

**_…………….._ **

Pig man tosses a chunk of bread to the duck.

_……._

_………._

_…………….._

After a few seconds of consideration, Small Q takes this action as a microaggression, the bread bouncing off his head and falling softly beside him.

Finally gaining enough composure to feel offended, he honks at him loud and clear, the noise resounding throughout the small home and into the sensitive ears of the piglin, who only continued to watch while the room eased back into the previous comfortable air. 

With all that happened, you would’ve expected Quackity to up and leave finally, a free man to wander to land and find someone else to freeload off of, and yet he stayed where he was, nervously looking at the floor around him. He was waiting. The man really, _REALLY_ did not want to endure another weird awkward spell, so he glanced out the window, casually allowing his eyes to drift towards the duck. Maybe it just needed some privacy to waddle out, it could be self-conscious for all he knew. This seemed to help the duck a little bit, a small and hesitant glance once again at the ground, at the bread. “ _Ah, that’s why,_ ” the man thought to himself, amused at the sudden bashfulness the bird showed. The strangest animal he’s met by far, for sure, and here he sat discreetly watching as the overly prideful thing poked at the bread with its beak. 

A tiny smile found its way on the man’s face, admiring the cuteness of it all, at the funny but nice circumstances that brought the silly little creature to him.

And then he heard the most horrendous choking noises. The abrupt loudness and awful sputtering clearly coming from the duck, and once again he felt a sliver of almost familiar awkwardness return to him.  
  


“ _For gods sake, how has this thing survived this long-”_ he thought, exasperated from the new situation. He only gets to stand up for a second, a suspiciously slow second at that. The chair squeaks on it’s way back, his hands on the sides of the table, almost standing to his full height. His loose pink hair falls forward, strands sliding so easily over his shoulder as smooth as silk. He doesn’t know why everything feels so tense for that second. The birds in the background quiet, the leaves rustling hold to a close. Even the waving feathers of the duck in distress seemed to have slowed down, noises of distress feeling muffled. 

Slow, quiet, tense, he knew something was wrong, knew it in the way he felt his heart freeze for a split second. 

And a loud bang at his door is all he needs to feel that spark in his veins, the one that tells him to hurry up and keep himself safe from whatever it is. Muscles tense and a hand already at the hilt of his sword, he notices the duck idly frozen in the middle of the floor, _“at least it understands danger”_ he silently said to himself, relieved. 

Quackity felt the ground shake. He felt the tension rise as suddenly as it was shattered, an axe ripping through the door in a quick and angry bang. He heard muttering, noises demanding more damage, to be quicker. In those few precious seconds, he noticed the way the piglin rose in a practiced and steady stance, the quiet scared him, made his heart thrum quickly, he had stopped his choking, or at least had done so in a much quieter fashion. More confident strikes were made with the white axe, completely stripping the door of any comfort it once held, splintering in chunks to reveal four grey pillagers, the largest zeroing in on the piglin. They filed in quickly, so quick. The thuds of their heavy boots resounding loudly, stomping to what Quackity felt was right next to him. It was fast, so fast. All he had time to do was puff his feathers up in reaction, smothering himself to the floorboards which felt like his only comfort. He watched with a held breath, feeling so tiny in that moment, as he saw the first clash of metal. The piglin had accepted his fate already, knowing full well he had to take on three. It was a tiny house, he had that to his advantage, however he was also trapped in the small area that his table took up. His sword swung up quickly, practiced, as if it weighed nothing. His block against the axe was one that set the whole area on fire, electricity fueling his careful movements to reach out quickly to the other, hand gripping tightly on the wrist and squeezing ‘til he heard a quick and small pop. There were two others behind the first, trying to maneuver around. He had to be quick with this one, had to make sure he had the time and energy to struggle for a bit more. Catching the falling axe in a swift motion, he twirled it quickly and smashed the handle harshly against the poor guy’s face, a barely contained whine of pain escaping him. A defining crack could be heard once it made contact with his nose. 

He heard it, loud and clear, the resounding smack the handle made. Quackity’s focus trained intently on the sight of blood pouring out of the man’s nose, his hands gripping his face and body slumping slowly to the ground, the ground that was being stained steadily with him. He could see the other two, backing him up and nodding to each other, in sync, now with a space open to attack. They were vocal, but Quackity couldn’t tell what they were saying. Muffled noises, muffled taunts, a bounty? Robbery? He couldn’t tell exactly, it was too loud, too much, and he was just so, _so_ tired and little.

For the second time that day, the feeling of hands wrapping themselves around his wings found him. He struggles this time, not knowing much but knowing this wasn’t going to end well. Wiggling his wings much more than before, he struggles, hoping for once that he was strong enough to do something. He wasn’t, not of any use, not even to himself. It was a smaller pillager, one with many empty bags on them. They examined the duck quickly, cooing in a high pitch at how soft and small he was. Not too far he could still see the piglin fighting two pillagers at once, smashing a chair over one and maneuvering around his table as best he could to avoid a blow. Attention back to his own captor, Quackity took note: they had a LOT of bags, all empty. No weapons or armor were on them, and they were a lot smaller than the rest. He may be a bit stupid but Quackity’s been mugged enough times to know this was supposed to be the ransacker. The eyes set on examining him, sharp, amused, but menacing. There was a cold feeling of dread rising to his throat, leaving an icy trail in its wake. 

The sound of breaking wood, grunts, bouts of pain, it was too much-

It was stuck in his head, loud footsteps and louder clashes of metals, he felt his heart crashing against his ribs, struggling to breathe, trying so hard to get any semblance of what air once was to him not even a few moments ago. Gasping for air and struggling, all while being held tightly between big hands and hearing the clangs of metal that strike fear quick into his heart.

..one

...two

….three seconds

_“Oh, that’s why I can’t breathe-”_

Quackity had made a sharp noise, something that startled the pillager to look into his face. 

_:)_

_ >:)) _

With what he had hoped was a deceivingly cute wiggle of his tail, Quackity had steadied himself and **_spit_ **the bread he had been choking on directly into the eye of the pillager. 

Like for funsies, just a lil gift for his day. 

_“Why the fuck did it take me so long to remember I was choking,”_ he thought to himself, not actually surprised, just,,,,diSaPpOiNtEd.

But his mind doesn’t really prioritize his immediate needs very well, and he ends up thrashing successfully out of the pillager’s grasp, however he also did so hard enough that he hit the floor with an embarrassingly loud _thud_. 

Scrambling to his feet, Quackity looks up to watch as Techno steadies himself from a particularly well aimed blow, taking note that another body had been added to the floor, slumping against the wall and right next to the small hole Quackity snuck in from. 

Now temporarily freed, Quackity didn’t know what exactly to do. He stood there, once again, feeling awkward as he watched the pink haired man from before continue his efforts against the last standing man. However, his knee still hurt like a bitch and he felt oddly at ease as he watched the merciless piglin loudly slam his opponent’s head repeatedly into the beautiful table he once read so peacefully at the night before.

The piglin looked pretty unbothered, stone-faced as he continued to deal major carnage, the crimson on the floorboards only spreading a bit further. Damn, one man is doing all this damage, and yet he still barely managed to get out of someone’s reach using a dirty trick. Glancing back at his ex-captor, he took note that they had backed away, rubbing their eyes furiously near the doorway.

To Quackity, it suddenly seemed so pointless. So much noise, and for what? This dude’s tea collection? They really seemed to miss their mark if they planned on robbing the man, he was obviously unhinged and lethal, not only that but his home itself looked pretty much empty. It was small, really hard to find, and the front had plenty of thick and thorny branches hiding it from plain view, _“seems like a lot of effort for something so dinky”_ he _homelessly_ thought to himself, _homelessingly_. 

A loud exasperated huff filled the air, the piglin had stepped back, tired. It was clear he was desperate for a few seconds to catch a quick breath, meticulously blocking hits, keeping the ring metal made loud and clear as it only continued to clash louder as time went on. No moment went wasted, the duck noticed, he made sure his opponent never had a second to think or draw back, he had kept them on their toes and made sure they were spending their energy. 

“You better hope you don’t miss” he heard the piglin say with a grunt. Wait-

He took a second look, he hadn’t noticed before but at some point, he had fully shifted into a piglin. The tusks came out a lot bigger and he had grown in size, a lot bigger, a lot more intimidating. Small pink ears came out of his head, his royal red cape no longer too close to the ground and instead creating a bigger shadow as he continued maneuvering his opponent further away from him, giving himself more space.

He had been doing a lot of fighting, the sound of clashing metal had become background noise and finally, just an ounce of guilt began to ebb into Quackity’s being. _That bread was all I had and I spat it out, lemme just,,,,,,help?? Just for a second and because I_ _want_ _to”_ Quackity thought to himself, sighing and hopping towards the hole he first came in from. The grunts became louder with every step that he limped closer to his escape, making sure he gave a good amount of space between him and the fight. 

He looked up, just one hop away from the hole, making brief eye contact with the stranger who had been tolerant of him all morning, he was clearly struggling with keeping his distance from his attacker, it was hard to believe that he had managed to endure so much for so long.

Quackity hopped down the small hole, feeling relieved and taking in a breath. There was so much going on, he may have done literally nothing but be a little shit today but he was still tired and lacked the energy to return to his familiar human self.

_“I may be too tired for a full return but,,maybe I can try something smaller. I can’t do jack shit like this just yet but that hasn’t stopped me from being [insert words that he would totally say wahoo]_

A breath had been drawn, focus entirely given to the metal clanging. A constant stream of chimes reverberated throughout the air leaving no space for silence. Tuning into the noises, he focused on the tusks he studied earlier, trailing to a set jaw, one that told all of the stubbornness that came with this particular piglin. He had proved himself to be strong and sturdy, dealing blows that broke both shields and confidence.

Quackity wanted to keep that, the sturdiness and tough look. The image of someone who would definitely break bones without hesitation. He just needed to be a little bigger, he knew he could manage that, just a little bigger than he was right now, more than the bird he became, just a little stronger and a little scarier too. He could do that. He could try to manage that change.

It felt like the longest few minutes he had ever faced but he had managed, his new body stretching itself out, getting used to the sore muscles and the still aching knee. He flicked his ears, now noticing that he had become a lot more alert to the noises around him. 

He hoped he copied the piglin enough to be a scary boar, with a small shake, he stuck his face through the hole, wiggling through. 

The weapons clinking only helped to get the attention of the waking man, bleary-eyed and shaking his head. 

It only made it a bit more satisfying when a small crack could be heard, Quackity’s newly made sharp and small hoof quickly and effectively knocked into the man’s face, smacking it into the wall behind. The man was now once again, asleep. Yeah,,,asleep. 

The small pillager from before was now blinking away tears, the furious rubbing had been very aggressive and the piece of bread no longer gave them immense embarrassment. Spotting the tiny boar, they have a groan of exasperation. 

The irritated look only fueled Quackity’s resolve, making him feel giddy as he noticed that they hadn’t moved from his spot. **_Oh_ ** , he _really_ wanted this to be loud and embarrassing. Quackity wanted attention, and he wanted it now for what he wanted to do. With a squeal, he had gotten the startled attention of the remaining man the piglin was fighting, seeing that even his golden eyes had flicked toward him. That was good, he only needed that to give him the push for this. Just to be a little more of an attention hog, he pranced in a quick small circle, each step accentuated with a loud and prominent tap, loud distinguishing taps, all to show how excited he was. 

Finally releasing a long-awaited shrill squeal, Boar Q bounded right for his ex-captor, hurdling square into their chest. I single-step backwards was all that was needed for them to lose their balance on top of the short flight of stairs. There were a few things that slipped Quackity’s mind, including the fact that he would go down with the small pillager. He landed on top of the pillager however, so it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve gotten. Slowly standing up, he had decided the stinging was worth it, the pain ever-growing in his leg wasn’t a big deal and the sore muscles that only ever kept getting louder and more demanding of rest were just a small obstacle to get through. It was worth it, he decided, to have been able to knock the little shit down to regain his barely existing dignity. Either way, this guy was gonna loot the place, one bag in particular seemed to have a bit more weight to it as Quackity nosed about it. A snort escaped him, one of satisfaction as he gloated inwardly, “ _This dude really thought he would profit today huh? This MY shit now hell yeah.”_

Biting onto the bag strap, Quackity made his way back up the steps. Sure, it hurt like hell but he really just wanted to see if the pink guy had finished yet so he could look at what the other grey dudes had on them. The steps creaked slightly with every step forward, slowly revealing himself to the now clean scene. 

As clean as it could be when four nerds try robbing a maniac that is. A short grunt could be heard, taking Quackity by surprise and making him look up, observing that the hybrid looked a bit tired, but still tense. Everyone had been knocked out, or dead, Quackity still can’t tell the difference but he likes to pretend he does. The golden eyes peering down at him made him feel small, for the first time that day he actually felt a small cold jolt of fear go down his body. What the hell was he doing, he walked into this guys’ house, squawked at him, then came back because,,,okay well there wasn’t a because, Quackity doesn’t think too far ahead but the glowering eyes made him feel as if he were being judged, genuinely and accurately. Another grunt, a sigh, a piglin had lowered himself to look more accurately at Quackity. The tiniest twitch could be seen at the corner of his mouth.

Techno scoops up the little boar with only a little bit of hesitation

“Might as well carry some food with me out of here”  
Techno still has to choke back a laugh anytime he remembers it

“ _MOTHERFUCKER YOU WHAT-”_ _  
_ Quackity had never screamed as shrill as he did at that moment, but if you were to ask him about it now he would’ve denied it.

The piglin already had an inventory ready to go, his valuables always being ready to move on quickly from place to place. With that, he carried the terrified and tiny boar in both arms. The moment he had set foot outside, the quiet and serenity of his hidden home asked to be let in, to bathe the two in a hug goodbye. A heavy hand rested on Quackity’s head, softly stroking the animal. Quackity paused, his heartbeat willing to listen for a minute. The hand on him gently soothed him, told him it was okay. Peeking up, he watched as the piglin smiled, a full smile like this morning at him. 

Maybe this was okay. Maybe this was a good thing. The sun was now high in the sky, the warmth being sucked in by the two. Alone for now. Alone together. A breath, a sigh, he nestled a bit closer to Techno. He decided he liked him, at least for now, now when he had shown enough patience and care to be playing with his small ears, rubbing them in circles. He was warm, and he was safe.

Moments like these were what Quackity cherished the most, he didn’t have a lot, he didn’t know much either, but he reminisces in those memories from before, the ones where he was safe and mindlessly sticking his nose in everyone’s business. A mess this time he was probably, most likely, going to be eaten for. He was alright with that for now. Too comfortable to be scared. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of different kinds of hybrids. Quackity is a shapeshifter so he's able to just, turn into whatever living thing he wants, however he does need to practice and stuff while other shifters could just do whatever they want with almost no practice.  
> Hybrids like Techno have 2 forms, he has a human and piglin form. These things not only affect people breeds, but random animals as well. Animals have the ability to shapeshift as well. Dogs have been known to be able to turn into deer as a form for example.  
> Some hybrids can't turn into a 'complete' form of the other however. Techno could fully turn into a piglin, however he still looks like an obvious piglin when he turns into a human since some features, such as his tusks/ears/eyes stay piglin.  
> Everything has a normal state/normal form. As they are born. Quackity was born with wings, so he feels much more familiar and comfortable in that form.


End file.
